


Bibliophile

by Dreamer in the Dark (Dream_Wreaver)



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Books, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-18
Updated: 2018-10-18
Packaged: 2020-01-13 13:37:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18470053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dream_Wreaver/pseuds/Dreamer%20in%20the%20Dark
Summary: Nathalie has a rather common way of relaxing. Or at least, she does until it gets her into trouble





	Bibliophile

Let it heretofore be known that everyone needed an escape. Some sort of way to retreat into their own headspace and allow themselves to breathe. Considering how stressful Nathalie Sancour’s life was, one might be surprised to find out that her way of relaxing was reading. It seemed counterintuitive, she was a business person, they did nothing  _ but _ read and Nathalie probably read more in a day than any person with a shred of sanity in their body did. Her work days were comprised of an endless barrage of contracts and memos and reports. She practically carried the company all by herself, since her boss was too busy playing supervillain at almost any given moment. But, reading had always been an escape for her, and there was no reason for it to change now.

After leaving work Nathalie stopped by her apartment to drop off her things and change into something that made her look completely not like herself. Slipping out the backdoor into an alley and making sure she had enough cash on her for what she needed to do, Nathalie walked the short distance to a local bookstore. Theirs was always full of interesting if not eclectic selections and they always seemed to have what she was looking for. Immediately upon entering the quaint little shop the proprietors, a lovely aging couple who seemed to have a never ending supply of tea and baked goods at the ready, were there to greet her. Nathalie nodded her hellos and began browsing. She already knew immediately where she wanted to go, but that wasn’t the way this game was played. The store was cleverly set up, with more popular genres -the newest YA hits, self help, bestsellers- taking the attention at the front of the store. From there, the less recent books were divided according to age group and genre. There was method to the madness, though the shelves and cases seemed to lead one on a winding, meandering path through the entirety of the shop. And in the back corners, darkened by the lack of windows and dim lighting that was common throughout the shop, was her destination.

Was it tawdry and trashy? Perhaps. But Nathalie had no time to find a happy ending of her own, so romance novels filled the void in the meantime. Maybe someday she would find the courage to seize her own. But for the moment, living vicariously through the fictional characters crafted within the pages would have to do. And of course, mixed in with the romance was the genre booksellers never wanted to put a name to. So they fell under the broader genre of ‘romance’ even though in some of them there was no love to be had, only desire. And sometimes, you needed that too. Nathalie had only a vague approximation of which of these hard backed companions she wanted to take home. A need, a yearning, but one that was utterly formless even as it cried out to be taken care of. So, she browsed. Because she was such an avid reader there were familiar faces along the shelves, copies of which rested comfortably out of sight on her personal bookshelf within her room in her apartment. Far from prying eyes on most days. But among the newcomers, nothing seemed to sate her curiosity for more than a few moments. The routine that was so common seemed to feel stale and grinding as that formless want craved its due.

It did, of course, until she stumbled upon a rather unique title. Like most romances, it held a rather bad, if not cheeky, pun within its name;  _ His Right Hand _ . Ha, as if  _ that _ couldn’t be taken more euphemistically. But the cover art -two figures standing with their backs to each other in silhouette, a sort of lovelorn melancholy emanating off of one while bitter brokenness radiated off the other- interested her enough to keep the book in hand long enough to find the story behind it. They said that life imitated art, or art in this case imitated life. Nathalie couldn’t help but wonder if the author of the fiction knew her personally. The name gave nothing away, but most authors in this genre used pseudonyms to keep their anonymity in tact, especially if their books became sensations.

But the story, it was about a wealthy businessman who though tragic yet mysterious circumstances had lost his wife and become a total shut in due to how broken he was. He pulled back from everyone, including his own son. And yet, there was just one person who he let in and trusted; his personal assistant. And she, wanting to help him cope with the recent and devastating blow, finds her duties turning from more than strictly clerical ones. The questions remained; would her heart stay intact? Would she lose her job for inappropriate conduct with her superior? Could she mend this broken man’s heart and bring him back to the world of the living? Or will her job not be the only thing she risks losing?

Nathalie’s fingers clutched tightly at the book. And suddenly, that effervescent need had a name, a face, and an answer. Here it was in her hands. Self-preservation told her to place the single copy left in the store and let someone else take it home with them. This could only end badly in ways worse than each idea before it. Still, some primal part of Nathalie urged her not to part with the tome, that this was what she  _ needed _ this lonely evening. Against her better judgement, Nathalie listened to it and returned with her single selection to the front counter.

“Find everything okay?” Marceline, one of the owners asked conversationally as she scanned the book, not even looking at title or cover as she slid it inside a bag. Then again, they were booksellers, there was probably no book from any genre that went unseen by them when their customers purchased it. At least she was incredibly good at remaining non judgemental. Or at an even further minimum, she was good at affecting that facade.

Nathalie nodded, “Only one, but I think it’s a good find,”

“Well then,” Marceline shrugged, “That’s all that matters, isn’t it? Truth be told  _ every _ book is a treasure. Good, bad, every book has something to offer someone, which means it’s worth existing. Isn’t that right Bonnie?”

“Right,” her wife, the other owner, looked up from her restocking of a shelf to nod, “Hope you enjoy it sweetie. And why don’t you take a pastry with you for your walk home? On the house of course,”

“Oh no, I couldn’t,” Nathalie tried to protest, because that too was part of how things were done here. Marcy and Bonnie’s favorite customers were given a pastry or baked good with every purchase. But a favorite customer needed to pretend as though they didn’t want it just so the old ladies could insist and fuss like the grandmothers they were. Nathalie walked out with a paper bag containing her book and a flaky croissant, warm from the oven. Not exactly good for dinner, but a croissant was welcome at almost any time in her book.

She munched the confection on her way home, slipping in much the same way as she had slipped out. It wouldn’t do for her to be recognized. Marceline and Bonnibel were good old ladies, but Nathalie couldn’t entrust her reputation as part of  _ Gabriel _ to just anyone. Better to be safe than sorry. The bag was carefully placed on the counter while Nathalie threw a quick dinner in the oven, then poured herself a glass of wine and began to run a bubble bath. The book would remain unread until after she’d begun to soothe the constant tension in her body away. No way was she going to risk taking it in the tub with her, too many nearly ruined books had effectively taught her  _ that _ particular lesson. No, her mind could unwind  _ after _ her body, or else the tension might be more frustrating than anticipatory.

By the time the timer for her dinner rang Nathalie was well and truly soothed. She felt near boneless as she hit the lever to let the water drain, taking the remnants of the bubbles with it. Water sluiced down her form as she tried to keep it reigned in while she reached for a plush, luxurious towel to wrap around her. The mat on the outside took care of any lingering liquid while Nathalie grabbed her empty glass and returned to the kitchen. She shut the oven off and let the meal warm a little longer while she changed into some soft and well-worn loungewear, her hair in a high, messy bun. She ate, and took a moment to sigh at the silence within her domicile. But she had tried ambient music and it only made the silence more everpresent in her mind. It was a reminder that her life was empty and mocked the shallow attempt to claim otherwise. Oh well, that was why she had her books.

Part of the pleasure of reading was anticipation. Nathalie could tell from just the opening lines she had skimmed the writer had potential, if not talent. The bibliophile within her yearned for more, for completion. But temperance was a virtue, and if nothing else part of immense satisfaction was the build up and anticipation. So she brought the bag into her room once she was done cleaning up her dinner and set it on her nightstand. Then she brushed her teeth, cleaned her face of its layers, and returned to her room. The main light was off, and a small, intimate light was turned on. Nathalie settled under the covers and began to read.

Hours later, she set the book aside. Though she could have easily devoured it, there were more nights than there were pages in the book. And what she had gotten though would be more than enough to help her exhaust herself. With epic restraint she set the bookmarked rectangle down, placed her glasses atop it, and turned out the light. Her unbound hair was splayed over her pillows, and she closed her eyes. Now the real fun could begin.

She was lonely, and single, and active, in that sense. It was only natural that she would use the oldest trick in the book to ease her tension even further. Not every night, then it lost its potency, and she was a lady in one regard if no other. She knew how to keep tight control of herself. It made the times when she let herself lose it all the more…  _ delicious _ . And the well written scenes of this newest addition to her library would provide her with plenty of fodder for her imagination to heighten.

Despite the fact that her hands were soft and well manicured, it was all to easy for her mind to replace them with larger, rougher ones as they caressed her skin beneath her pajamas. Her breathing quickened as her nerves began to fire responses, communicating with one another in rapid succession, trying to make sense of the sensations she inflicted upon herself. Natural responses that made the job easier and a nail scratched at  _ just _ the right spot. Higher and higher, even as she alternated her own pace, not wanting to reach her peak before she could really enjoy the journey. The rhythm, much like any symphony, changed, depending on which instrument she played. The most important, the central organ (pun intended) had to remain in time with the others, not going too fast or too slow. And all the while, Nathalie imagined the faceless boss from the novel. Cold, detached, powerful even in his broken state. The jagged shards of who he once was used as weapons to keep others at bay even as he pulled her closer to him. She wanted to unwravel him even as he sought to utterly undo her. She was panting as he whispered meaningless platitudes in her ear, some of them romantic, other utterly unfit to be repeated within polite company. Her imagination was running away with her, and Nathalie  _ reveled _ in it. And then it came, the crest, the crescendo, the largest swell of all. All the grandeur of her silent music came to a head and with a wordless scream and an arch of her back it finished. There was only one sour note, one terrible line; in the height of her passion, for just a brief moment, she had given her nameless protagonist a face. One which set her spasming and shuddering harder than she would have ever allowed herself to otherwise. It was the face of Gabriel Agreste, her boss and her secret crush. And also a villain with empathic powers and a range that encompassed the whole damn city.

The instant it had come, so had she, and there it went. But a moment was often all he needed to strike. Nathalie’s face burned with embarrassment. Gabriel, with the power of that brooch of his could sweep the entire city, but he could only sense intense emotions. That was why he didn’t seem to notice her feelings for him. Partly because he wasn’t looking for them, but mostly because she kept a tight hold on them when in his presence; his return to villainy after seemingly giving it up for good her only exception.

Of course she knew where his affections lay. Of course she respected that, but the heart wanted what it wanted, even when it belonged to a supposedly heartless person. His desire to have Emilie back was an old hat conversation at this point between them. They had never been physical, aside from one night where he’d been utterly falling apart and had needed her embrace to reassure him. There was nothing sexual about those touches though, that was comfort and intimacy in a sexless way. It hadn’t stopped her foolish heart from getting involved, but no, there had been no inappropriate behavior between them no matter how deeply Nathalie subconsciously wanted it. And now, there was a very real chance that their professional relationship -which took so much out of her to maintain- might be all for not. She figured that her job was still safe, as if he threatened to fire her outright she could just bring up the fact that she knew his secret identity as the man causing Paris so much grief. But it would be so  _ awkward  _ between them. Nathalie often found it ironically amusing that the man who was known as a heartless bastard in the business world had gotten a miraculous that dealt exclusively with emotions. Sure, he had empathy, but no sympathy nor compassion. Even if he  _ did _ reject her gently, it would still hurt like hell and it would have  _ nothing  _ to do with her own feelings on the matter. He was just bad at being nice, point blank. Emilie had softened his rougher edges, but with her stuck in some undefinable state hidden away from the world, those rough edges were going unchecked and getting rougher with each successive failure.

Nathalie didn’t get any sleep that night, despite how tired her body felt after such activities. Her mind kept racing with all the possibilities. So that had been what that self-preserving side of her had been warning about when she’d contemplated whether or not to buy the damn book in the first place. But she couldn’t exactly fault the book, she’d been dumb enough to ignore her logic and buy it, read it, and use it to get herself off and imagine her boss while doing so. Out of the two of them Nathalie herself was entirely to blame. The next morning she felt as though she herself was stuck in some half conscious state, somewhere between rested and exhausted. Nightmares had plagued her of all the bad events that were sure to happen when her boss confronted her about this terrible lapse in judgement.

But, she forced herself to go in instead of taking a much desired sick day. No, Nathalie was an adult and she would face her actions like on. Except, he said nothing. Which made her breathe a sigh of relief. Despite the odd hours he kept, perhaps he’d been asleep at that time last night and it went completely unnoticed. At any rate, Nathalie wouldn’t say anything if he didn’t. But it was that ever present desire not to disappoint him and the worry that perhaps she was not as fortunate as she appeared to be that caused her to be less than efficient as usual. And it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Nathalie come in here,” Gabriel ordered as she finished taking care of some minor documents. He himself was neither in his office nor his lair, claiming he wanted a change of location in order to revitalize his muse. So, he was spending the day in one of the many rooms within the mansion that had no purpose other than to be shut away for the most part.

Nathalie followed to where he beckoned and she entered the room. This was one of the ones that had apparently never been decorated. Or if it had, its theme was apparently ‘white’, just… white. And the splashes of color Gabriel had within his own outfit provided a stark contrast to the rest of the room. He stood staring out the window with his back turned to her.

“Close the door,” he ordered without turning to face her. Nathalie automatically did as she was told. The door clicked shut with an ominous air of finality. Steady heart for he can surely hear you scream.

But he remained silent, still watching whatever was going on outside. Nathalie wished she had brought her tablet or a notepad or  _ something _ she could clutch close to her chest and use as a shield, however miniscule. Nathalie felt more and more uncomfortable the longer he went without speaking. And it took more effort than usual to keep her emotions suppressed, or at the very least muted.

“Tell me Nathalie,” he began, gaze still locked on the cityscape that was his vista, “Does it bother you that your job as my right hand keeps you so sequestered from the rest of the world?”

Well…  _ this _ was not the direction she had expected him to take. But she could roll with it, “Pardon sir?” she asked in reply, “I would say that I get out far more often as your assistant than I might with any other job. Since you don’t leave the house too often.”

“And, do I work you too hard? Do you feel your hours stifle your social life?”

“I… what?”

“Do you feel you are working so much that it does not allow you time to properly socialize in an environment outside of work?”

“I… no,” Nathalie shook her head, “Not at all sir. I’m a bit of a homebody as it is.”

“I see,” he was silent another moment, turning just enough so that his profile was in her view, “And what do you like to do, in your spare time?”

“I- why the curiosity, sir?”

“Answer the question,”

“I like to read, sir. It helps me relax.”

“Relax, hm?” he hummed as though something both amused and angered him, “Consider yourself a bit of a bibliophile do you?”

“I suppose you could say that, yes,”

“Do you have any recommendations, I’ve been looking for some new material.”

“Not at the moment sir, if I knew a bit more of your literary tastes perhaps I could-”

“Enough with the games Nathalie,” he said suddenly, “I expect two things tantamount from you, your loyalty, and your honesty. And the coy affectation you have adopted today is really starting to grate.”

“Sir,” she backed against the door, fumbling for the knob, “I- I don’t know what you’re talking abou-”

“Oh don’t you?” he narrowed his eyes at her, striding forward and taking her hand, leading her further into the room and depositing her on the large white bed in such a manner that she fell back while he watched coldly from above, “Does this position ring any bells? Or do we need to go further?”

Oh no, he knew. He  _ knew _ . And she was royally screwed.

“I- I’m sorry sir,” she deferred instantly, “I was… it was in a book.”

“A book that caused your emotions to reach out to me in the middle of the night?” Gabriel pressed, “Emotions of longing and desire? For me, your boss, of all people?”

“It was an honest mistake sir,” Nathalie stammered, “I let my imagination run away from me.”

He smirked as he moved to hover over her. To what end she didn’t know, “Does that happen often?”

“Not as far as I let it last night,” Nathalie replied quietly, cheeks flushing at the position they were in, “I never meant to… but the book, it-” she sighed, “It just, the male lead, he reminded me of you. I,” she nearly bit her tongue at the lie she was about to tell, “I didn’t even realize it until that last moment-”

“Mhm,” he hummed in amused skepticism, “Well, then, if that’s all it is...”

“It is,” Nathalie insisted, “I, I prefer my men fictional. Now,” she made to get up but his arms continued to cage her in, “Sir?” 

“What did I say about honesty Nathalie?” Gabriel asked, “Why do you keep lying to me?”

“Why are you determined to push this issue?” Nathalie shot back, “I know I’m not Emilie. But despite my namesake I  _ do _ have feelings. And my damn dignity. Excuse me if I would prefer to walk out of here with both more or less in tact.”

“I’m not the one who thought of a work associate in an inappropriate manner,”

“You never would have even  _ known _ about that if not for that magical little jewel at your throat,” Nathalie retorted, “And please,  _ forgive _ me for finding you even moderately attractive. Yes, your workload and mine keeps me too busy to find someone. But you know what? It wouldn’t matter even if it didn’t. I have a specific type, one that’s harder to come by than you might think.”

“And that would be?”

“Cold Hearted bastards, apparently.”

“Is that a roundabout way of saying you desire me?”

“Are you going to do nothing but mock me for this if I say yes?”

“Nathalie,” he sighed, sounding almost disappointed.

“Sir, what do you want me to say?” she replied, “Out of the two of us,  _ I’m _ the only one in a precarious position here. You have the benefit of being able to sense emotion. You don’t have to feel vulnerable. Meanwhile I have to worry about what this one little slip up is going to do to our working dynamic. I know you have Emilie, I know you love her, I respect all that. I have never acted on any latent desires I might have had for you because it’s unprofessional and I don’t operate that way. I would never force anyone to bear the burden that is mine alone to bear, least of all you. And if this was all just a ploy to break me enough so that you could use me well… congratulations, I’d say you’ve succeeded.”

She let her head fall back against the mattress and shut her eyes. Waiting for the blade to fall, waiting for his weight on the bed to disappear as he ran off to use her like he used everyone else. But it never came. She opened her eyes to find him still staring at her.

“Nathalie,” he cleared his throat uncomfortably. Wasn’t that novel? Him being uncomfortable when, as usual, he was the one with all the power between them, “You have to know you’re different, that is… I wouldn’t. I never had any plans of akumatizing you because you were upset-”

“What?” she asked sarcastically, “Were you just going to ask my permission before you sent the butterfly out?”

“I was, yes actually,” Gabriel nodded, “But we aren’t talking about that. You should know that such thoughts are understandable. And that you are far from the only person to have had them. Indeed you are truly commendable, because many woman similar in temperament to you would have seized the chance to use desire and weakness of a situation like mine to further themselves. But you are better than that, so I can trust you not to act on such things if there was no perceived reciprocation-”

“What are you trying to get at sir?” she asked. He normally wasn’t so loquacious, which meant something was up. She just needed him to cut to the chase.

One of his hands shifted to caress her cheek, “I’m saying I’ve felt it too,” he sighed, “Desire. For you, at the most inopportune times. I know I love Emilie, I still want her back at any cost. But you, you’ve always been there. You make me feel… less broken, more grounded. I know that so long as you stay by my side, I can accomplish just about anything. And-” he cut himself off, as though he had more to say but didn’t know how to say it.

“So,” she said after a brief pause that threatened to turn awkward if left too long unbroken, “What do you want us to do about this, sir?”

Gabriel thought, long and hard. And finally he answered, “I want you to tell me  _ exactly _ what you were doing last night. And then, I want to make it better,”

Nathalie blinked, “What, now?” he nodded, “But, it’s the middle of the work day-”

“I’m the boss and you follow my orders, remember?” he asked, “If I say we’re working on a special project then that’s exactly what we’re doing, understood?”

Nathalie nodded, “Understood,  _ sir _ ,” she purred. Nathalie hadn’t even known she  _ could _ purr until just now.

She heard a loud exhale in response as his eyes widened and his pupils dilated. Slowly Nathalie reached up a hand and undid her bun, unwinding her hair so that it splayed out behind her like it had last night. Then, she nudged her heels off with her feet, savoring the sound of them clattering to the floor. It was only when she went for her blazer that Gabriel seemed to recover his power of speech,

“Wait, were you-”

“In my pajamas? Yes,” Nathalie nodded as she wriggled out of the garment and dropped it to the ground, shooting him a look that said, ‘i know what you’re thinking,’,“But I suppose we’ll just have to make due, oh!” she tacked on at the end, remembering one other thing. She removed her glasses and set them to the side. Now as close as she could be to replicating her situation from the night before she said, “Alright, I’m ready,

“Ready?” he raised a brow, “You haven’t even begun,”

“Oh, you expect me to start? I thought you just wanted directions,”

“Well you know me,” how he managed to shrug without moving his shoulders she didn’t know, but he damn well did it, “I’ve always been more of a hands-on learner,”

And that was how she ended up biting her lip near hard enough to bleed with her boss’ hand in between her legs. His rhythm was much less erratic than hers had been. More predictable, but who said predictable was a bad thing? It was already more than enough that the calluses on his fingers from years of hand-stitching were doing most of the work for him. The experience took much less time to repeat than it had to create the first time. Which in itself was odd, not because she’d purposefully kept herself on edge last night, but because usually with a partner it took even longer than that. Then again, none of her other partners had a magical piece of jewelry which clued them in to exactly what made her feel good, and what made her feel better than good. She clutched at him even as he withdrew his fingers and licked the residue off of them. Nathalie had to blush at the sight, which embarrassed her further. It wasn’t like it was something unusual or even unfamiliar to her. It was just the thought of Gabriel Agreste, stalwart fashion designer, her  _ boss _ not only making her climax but sucking at his fingers like they were coated in gourmet chocolate. It was too much, even if it was incredibly hot.

Nathalie reached for his tie, yanking him down by it and crushing his lips to hers. She tasted herself on his tongue as her hands roamed his body, musing his hair and tearing at his own clothes, of which he was wearing way too many. But, luck apparently seemed to favor him more today, because before she knew it Nathalie was left only in her bra, which itself had been yanked down to expose her breasts to the open air. Meanwhile he was still in his button down and trousers. It just wasn’t fair, but it felt too good to really complain about.

Dimly in the back of her head she heard the rustle of cloth and the hurried pull of a zipper. And then, there it was. There  _ he _ was, and damn it all. It wasn’t enough that he was a wealthy man, or a world renown fashion designer, or a savvy businessman. No, he just  _ had _ to be well-endowed too.

“You’re staring,” he teased.

“Like you haven’t been ogling my chest this whole time,” Nathalie shot back.

“I never claimed not to be,”

His frankness at such a time was both flustering and a turn on, “Perv,” she chided half-heartedly.

“As if that were ever in question,” he retorted, “I  _ am _ a man after all. And speaking of, are you on birth control?”

It then occurred to her he likely hadn’t originally planned for this, which was why the question came up at all. Considering he hadn’t been with anyone besides Emilie,  _ since _ Emilie it likely wasn’t a matter of potentially catching something. It was the other concern. Nathalie nodded. And he heaved a sigh of relief,

“Good, then there’s no reason to stop,” he leaned down to kiss her and suddenly they were joined.

He was big, bigger than she had expected him to be anyways. Or maybe that was because she’d been to busy for anyone’s company but her own for a long time. Either way it felt  _ incredible _ . And, because he was an excellent multitasker he somehow managed to keep himself aloft, caress her, kiss her, and keep up the rhythm he’d set. Nathalie clung to him, wrapping her legs tightly around his hips as they undulated together. The sensations were too much, Nathalie came apart. He followed not long after. They lay there in the aftermath; sweaty, panting, and utterly undone. The reality of what just happened set in. Nathalie had slept with her boss, her  _ married boss _ . This should have caused a major internal meltdown. She knew better, she wasn’t the type to sleep her way to success, and yet if this got out that’s exactly what everyone would think. She should be scurrying out of bed, gathering her clothes and insisting this was all a terrible lapse of judgement that could never be repeated. Instead, she rolled over into his embrace, sighing contentedly when he wrapped an arm around her.

“What do we do now?” she mumbled into his chest, taking comfort in the erratic pounding of his heart beneath her fingers.

“With any luck?” he quipped, “Repeat this encounter, frequently.”

“And when you get Emilie back?” not if,  _ when _ . If Queen Wasp had taught her anything he would never give up so long as he perceived a scrap of hope to hold onto. And there would always be one. Those heroes weren’t perfect, they were people, humans just like him, with magical jewelry. That was all.

He was silent. And then, “We’ll deal with it as it comes. I’m not going to go back to ignoring my desires when you not only reciprocate them, but wholeheartedly embrace them. For now, let’s just take it one step at a time.”

“Of course, sir,” Nathalie replied.

They lay there a while longer before finally getting up. Nathalie was somewhat thankful she’d been utterly stripped down. Unlike Gabriel she wouldn’t have to try and come up with a new outfit. As soon as they were presentable again they left the room as though nothing out of the ordinary had occurred between them. They reached their shared office and Nathalie said down at her desk, wincing at the soreness in her hips.

“Nathalie,” Gabriel said to her as he stood at his podium.

“Yes sir?” she answered.

“When you have a spare moment, be sure to lend me that book of yours,”

“Why? Need ideas?”

“It’s never a bad idea to have multiple sources of inspiration,”

Nathalie had to suppress a smirk, “Of course sir. Once I’m done with it first.”


End file.
